TORONTO - WAITER, I THINK I'LL HAVE WHAT THAT LUNATIC MURDERER IS HAVING, PLEASE

Last Meals Delivery Service is a simple, but classy, idea: if you live in the downtown Toronto area and you feel like having someone deliver the exact same meal that a death row inmate requested right before he was executed, you can now place an order and have it delivered to you. Which we did.  And sure enough, when you're eating like a murderer, you can get a lot of food for $20 a head - the States' allotted budget. Plus it's sort of like taking part in mystery dinner theater, except you know whodunnit and it's the food you've been randomly assigned that might surprise you by clashing with your particular dietary requirements. Fun!

We asked Nick, our office marketing/plumber/resident food expert to test out the dinner, and since he's such a foodie he couldn't resist giving us a review and a rundown of the meal. Here's what Nick had to say to sum up the experience: 

"I got really excited when I was told I could eat the 'last meal' of a United States murderer.  The sheer morbidity of having a 'bond' between a dead man walking and myself was enough to grow my gonads and have me salivating at the mouth.  OK, that sounded weird.  But truth be told, I like food and I like death row murderers, so eating the meal that a convicted felon ingested before they filled him up with sodium thiopental seemed like a good idea.

To be honest, the whole experience was kind of anti-climactic.  Part of the problem was that I had developed a pretty specific theory of what this meal would entail.  I ramped myself up by creating a fictional menu (which included a 12-ounce porterhouse, some mashed potatoes, and other line items I'm sure would never be served in any federal penitentiary) accompanied by a video bio of said killer getting needles jabbed in his arm.

This was not the case.

Instead I was given a brown paper bag and some tinfoil containers with the prisoner's name and number scrawled in chicken scratch.  For the record, my prisoner (who was pre-selected) was Jimmy Dale Bland, inmate number 1084: charged with shooting a guy in the head with a 22-caliber rifle.  Before that, he was charged with manslaughter and kidnapping, only to escape the prison then get paroled a year later.  But, I digress.

The meal consisted of three pieces of fried chicken, four slices of sausage pizza, a box of Chapman's vanilla ice cream, one whole chocolate cake, a two liter bottle of Dr. Pepper, a pack of Gravol and Tylenol (I was told prisoners often request this to quell the incessant puking that usually overwhelms a man when he has less than 12 hours to live) and a picture of Jimmy Dale Bland himself.  The picture was a nice touch.  By time I started working on the cake, my stomach began to feel real shitty inside. I'm not sure if it was  because of the hick-certified meal, or if it was the gravity of this killer's face staring blankly into my soul, but it was probably the former.

All in all, this meal was pretty much like what I'd eat if I was high - shit that makes you shit.  It wasn't completely out of left field.  Although I did spit up a bit when I saw this photo of JDB."

Comments

[michelle]

crazy eyes.

[janet]

was it a homemade chocolate cake or a box one? these are details I need

[mike]

obnoxious. you girls are getting cuntier by the hour. thanks.

[sophia]

this makes me feel really queasy inside. i shouldnt have read this while eating my lunch. the pic was probably the shitty icing on the cake.

[Luke]

Man, i would have been more let down by the lack of files in my cake and maybe the fact it wasn't shaped like a butterfly or flowers.

Did he request the picture of himself or did they just throw it in for the funnies?

[matt]

I think I would want a large bottle of alcohol, can you do that?